


The Legendary Shrubbery of Gedref, or how Bran met the Once and Future

by archaeologist_d



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Canon Related, Episode: s01e11 The Labyrinth of Gedref, Fluff, M/M, Other Character - Freeform, Sexy Times, shrubbery, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-07-19 19:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19978963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologist_d/pseuds/archaeologist_d
Summary: Bran wasn’t too happy about his shrubbery. Damn nobles and their stupid swords.





	The Legendary Shrubbery of Gedref, or how Bran met the Once and Future

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: I wanted to do something cracky. I adored the Labyrinth of Gedref and it did have its funny moments. One-off reference to Monty Python.  
> Many thanks to my ever-patient beta, camelittle. She’s great!

“Bloody nobles and their stupid quests.” Bran looked at the damage and shook his head. “Why can’t they just follow the path like any normal person?”

The Labyrinth of Gedref was known for many things. It was a huge leafy confusion of twists and turns for those seeking the legendary, and if truth be told, non-existent sword at the centre of the maze. It was a place of contemplation and solitude where a mind could let go of troubles and just rest a while. Most importantly, it was a site where magic thrived, much to the horror of the Pendragon king. 

But to Bran, it was a garden, full of green life and beautiful. He’d cared for it all his life and his forebears back into the mists of eternity.

And now, _again_ , someone had cut into the shrubbery, notching a horror into every turn, marring each wall’s perfect symmetry, walls that he’d spent days on getting just right.

Stupid quests.

And stupid nobles who tended to slash through the barriers of green, hacking their way past branches and leaves, leaving a trail of broken wood, as they mistakenly tried to navigate the labyrinth by carving a path of destruction straight through it. Of course, that tended to end badly since the plants were not exactly happy to be cut down and they would fight back.

Bran would rescue the fools, of course, but he did tend to wait a bit to make sure they understood just how ill-advised an idea that had been. If he laughed as they ran screaming for the hills, well, it served them right.

But because the gashes were so precisely cut this time, it probably wasn’t some knight focused to finishing his quest in time for supper. Or a drunken band of knights, may they be forever damned, egging each other on to prove themselves. The fools tended to leave vomit and destruction in their path and often Bran could hear them singing bawdy songs of lust and lecherous acts, or shouting something about ‘Ni’ and shrubbery, or else fighting each other with raised voices and swords. The clang of steel usually gave that away. While Bran would break up the fights eventually, he wasn’t daft enough to get in the middle of drunkards with sharp objects until he absolutely had no choice.

Still, he probably should see who it was and give them a good talking to.

As he followed the damage, using magic and the shrubbery’s own defenses to heal its wounds, he could hear the sea as he got closer to the exit, and voices of men arguing about dying and poison.

What he saw there, when he reached the beach, was Anhora, bane of Bran’s existence – unicorns were notoriously destructive to shrubs and Anhora just shrugged when Bran complained about it - standing over two men sitting at a table with two chalices in front of them.

The peasant, neckerchief askew, was explaining to the noble, Arthur somebody, about how all they had to do was pour one cup’s content into the other, and they would know the full cup would be poison and then he, the wild-haired servant, would sacrifice himself and drink it.

Bran was impressed. Usually that kind of puzzle took a lot longer to figure out.

And of course, he thought this Arthur would actually let the poor fool drink the poison and that would be that. Nobles, honestly, weren’t always noble.

But Arthur surprised him. “Look, Merlin, what’s over there?” he said, pointing. When Merlin turned around to look, Arthur poured everything into a single chalice and downed it all in one go.

Merlin turned back, horrified, yelling at him for being a clotpole, screaming that it should have been him drinking the poison, not Arthur.

Since he was already unconscious, Arthur probably didn’t hear Merlin berating him. Instead, he tipped back, then fell down onto the rocks, and skidded halfway towards the waiting sea.

Shrieking that it wasn’t Arthur’s time, Merlin rushed over, shaking Arthur, begging him to wake up, then imploring Anhora to let him take Arthur’s place, pleading with him over and over again.

It was rather hard to watch.

Bran wasn’t worried, though. Anhora was a tricky old fool, a bit rule-bound but he wasn’t a murderer. Anhora was only trying to find out what was in the hearts of men, using guile to fathom out the truth, and most likely he had not used poison but a sleeping draught to find out. 

Merlin’s Arthur would wake up again in time.

But Merlin didn’t know that.

Of course, Anhora didn’t tell him for a few moments, letting Merlin feel the full horror of losing someone before telling him the truth. 

Merlin wasn’t having any of it. When he found out what Anhora had done, he yelled a bit at him, then ignoring him, knelt next to Arthur, cradling Arthur in his arms until Anhora walked away and Arthur woke and there was hugging and a bit of shouting about sacrifice and how Merlin thought Arthur was worth ten of him. Then there was frantic kissing and more than a friendly handshake or two. 

Almost like a bit of play-acting he watched in the village when the bards came to town. Except it was real and heartfelt, and there hadn’t been any kissing or clothes flying or moaning in the village production.

That’s when Bran knew it was time to leave. To give them a bit of privacy. Even though Arthur’s arse was a wonder to behold and Merlin’s hands were busy with things, pleasurable things.

Beside him, Anhora said, “They are both idiots, but at least they are pure of heart.”

Bran grunted, then nodded toward the writhing pair. “Looks like they won’t be pure of body much longer.”

“My unicorn won’t be pleased. Pendragon was already sullied, but she liked Merlin.”

Bran didn’t laugh but it was a near thing. Unicorns were notoriously picky about letting just anyone pet them. Only virgins and self-sacrificing ones at that. Anhora was the single exception.

“Well, now this Arthur will be sullying Merlin instead.”

Bran could hear Merlin saying nonsense words, like ‘harder’ and ‘oh Arthur’ and ‘just there’, and then there was a series of groans and one of them, either Merlin or Arthur or maybe both, must have had some magic because Bran’s shrubs seemed to glow a bit and shiver ecstasy into the wind.

Beside him, Anhora said, “Oh, my. That was… did you feel it?”

Bran just nodded. “Looks like they’ll be at it a while longer. And my garden is more than a little happy at the moment, what with all that… um… magic spurting out like that. Looks like I’ll have a bit of leafy overgrowth to deal with tomorrow.”

“My unicorns will be happy to help take care of that.”

Bran almost mocked Anhora, wanting to remind him of all the times his unicorns had torn into the labyrinth and ruined weeks of work with a few swipes of their white horns. But there was another swell of magic coming from the pair on the beach, intensifying, and the shrubs nearest the entrance grew half a foot right before Bran’s eyes.

At this rate, the labyrinth would be more a wild forest than a structured garden before morning.

Bran looked on helpless, not knowing what to do. Tutting, Anhora shook his head, nodding toward the oblivious pair of miscreants on the beach.

When things didn’t settle down, instead seemed to notch up a level, and their moans got louder, Anhora gave a long heavy sigh, and said, “I’ll take care of this.”

Then he strode forward and let out a very loud ‘ahem’. When that didn’t work, he pounded on the rock with his staff several times, and finally, Arthur looked up, blinking confusion, then seemed to understand exactly how naked they both were. His face turned red, and even he sat up, he tried to cover his manly bits with whatever clothing was nearby.

Merlin, on the other hand, wasn’t having any of it. Smiling, his mouth red and swollen, looking both satisfied and satiated, he reached up to brush Arthur’s nipple, and grabbed at his neck to pull him back down again.

Arthur jerked out of reach, said, sharp and exasperated, “Merlin!”

“Your highness, the curse is at an end,” Anhora said, clearing his throat and looking pointedly at them.

Arthur stood up then, hopping into his breaches as fast as he was able, batting away Merlin’s hand as Merlin tried to lace up Arthur’s clothes – or maybe unlace them. It was hard to tell with the two of them dancing around each other.

Anhora was impassive, though, his face giving away nothing as he said, “Go with the knowledge that your sacrifice has brought prosperity back to your kingdom. It has deemed you worthy of our respect.”

Arthur cleared his throat, stepping in front of Merlin who was now struggling, scowling, into his own clothes. “I thank you. We will honour your trust and keep the unicorns safe from harm in future.” His face turned to the side, frowning a bit. “Won’t we, Merlin?”

“It wasn’t me that shot her in the first place, you prat.” Merlin was hopping around, shoving one boot on as he said, “I told you not….”

“Shut up, Merlin.” But as Merlin started to sputter about something or other, Arthur shoved his elbow into Merlin’s chest, and that did the trick. Merlin closed his mouth, instead glaring at Arthur as if ready to turn him into a toad or jab him with a pointy stick. But Arthur must have dealt with Merlin’s sharp looks before, and instead he said, “Anhora, we thank you again. Farewell.”

Then with a quick bow, he grabbed Merlin’s arm and held on tight and started stomping away with Merlin stumbling beside him. He wasn’t exactly happy about it, either. Merlin’s other boot was still dangling from his hand and he was muttering something about prats and cabbageheads and could he just hang on a second. But Arthur ignored him, setting a quick pace for them both as Arthur marched and Merlin half-hopped down the beach toward where their horses were waiting.

Bran tried to ignore the heated kiss between them as they rode away.

Anhora let out a long sigh. “Hard to believe that those two are destined for great things.”

“Them?” It didn’t seem possible. They were a pair of idiots as far as Bran was concerned.

“Emrys and the Once and Future King.” As Bran stared at him in disbelief, Anhora chuckled. “The stuff of legend.”

Bran rolled his eyes. “If those two are the stuff of legend, I’ll eat my left boot.” And he lifted his foot, wiggling it a bit for emphasis.

“Never vow something you can’t fulfill, my friend. Left boots are hard to come by and I hear they taste terrible.” Anhora wagged his eyebrows a bit for emphasis, then sent Bran a smile, shaking his head as he did. “And now, I will leave you to your shrubbery. Although a word of advice. I’ve heard the newest fashion is one of designs or animals cut out of shrubs, rather than straight lines. This place could use a bit of cheering up.”

Bran huffed at that, feeling a little insulted. “The Labyrinth has been the same for a thousand years. It’s a classic.”

“Of course.” Anhora gave him one more bow. “Until next time.” And in the next blink of an eye, he disappeared.

Typical.

He couldn’t leave the normal way, like walking or maybe inviting Bran over for a tankard of ale or two. Keeper of the Unicorns, indeed. The arse.

Besides, Bran’s Da had always told him that tradition was all they had, that the Labyrinth was something out of time, ever fixed. But Bran thought times were changing and maybe, just maybe Anhora did have a point.

A nice decorative flourish at the entrance might bring in the tourists and a few extra coins. He could even put up a gazebo, or maybe a henge or have a fake sword coming out of a granite slab in the centre of the labyrinth as additional incentive. And gardens with exotic flowers and parterres and pretty stone sculptures.

The Labyrinth was already famous all over Gedref, but it had become a bit scary for ordinary folk and quests weren’t really enough, after all. It wouldn’t hurt to make something more out of it. And maybe, with enough money, he could hire a few more gardeners and really do something with the place. He’d often argued with his Da about it.

Someday it might even be known more for its gardens and artistic leafy sculptures than just a place for drunken knights to lose their way. Or stupid quests. He could host hand-fastings and Druid coming-of-age ceremonies and Solstices in the stone circle. And there was room on the beach for cottages, too, and love nests.

All he had to do was bring back Merlin and that Arthur fellow from time to time and have them enjoy each other’s company, over and over again, gushing out magic everywhere and his garden would flourish as never before. If he planned it just right, he could open a new section by mid-summer.

If it all worked out, the Labyrinth would be world-famous, not just in Gedref. 

Bran would be recognized at last for more than being just a gardener, more than just a keeper of a leafy maze. He’d be master of his own domain, maker of horticultural spectacular.

He would be the legend in the Legendary Shrubbery of Gedref. 

And he would never have to clean up after drunk knights or chase away nobles with stupid quests ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; It and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
